A Question of Manhood (23 page)

A brother? A good friend? I didn't want to focus on the obvious. But then they pulled a little apart, just enough for them to kiss. I watched, horrified, as the other guy put his mouth right over JJ's and stayed there. And stayed there. This was no light peck. This was a
kiss
.

I hightailed it out of the stockroom to where I didn't have to see that. Where I didn't have to decide what to do about it. I just knew it was wrong. It
had
to be wrong.

 

All the way home on my bike in the afternoon, barely ahead of the raindrops that had been threatening since the morning, I grew more and more determined about what I had to do to shake that kiss. To get it out of my mind's eye. And what I had to do was be with a girl. It was the only way to exorcise this creepy feeling, and anyway I had some recreation coming to me. I wanted to see
The Day of the Jackal,
and I was going to take a girl. I'd take Laura if she'd go with me; I hadn't asked her out since Mom had made me cancel last November, but she'd been on my mind. Especially lately, when the only girl I saw regularly was Alice. But first I had to get some money.

My plan was to ask Dad over dinner, in front of Mom, after finding a way to remind him about my genius idea this morning. And I didn't have to wait long. Dad launched into the story of the battling canines, playing up his part in it for Mom—though to be fair, he did jump right in there.

Mom had the grace to ask, “Paul, you weren't anywhere near that scene, were you?”

“Well, yeah, I was. JJ needed my help. It took three of us…”

Dad interrupted. “It did, indeed! It took every ounce of my strength to hold that bulldog on the ground, I tell you.”

So I let him have the floor, puffing himself up. And again Mom asked the right question. “You're not doing any more of these, are you?”

“I talked with JJ about a different arrangement,” Dad said, like it had been his idea. He was going to go on, but I interrupted this time.

“I suggested doing it by appointment, so only one dog would be there at a time.”

They both looked at me, Mom horrified that there might be more sessions, Dad like I'd stolen his thunder. I shoved a forkful of broccoli into my mouth, telling myself to wait this out in silence. And finally Dad was talked out. Evidently he and JJ had decided to give things a bit of a rest, and then Dad would put signs up in the store. Customers could call ahead for a specific appointment time on any day when JJ was working—not just Saturday—and they would work outside. Barring rain.

Every time JJ's name was mentioned, an image of that guy kissing him nearly made me lose my dinner. It didn't help that Dad's worship of the guy didn't seem to have lessened any.

When the tale of the day's doings seemed ground to a halt, I let just a smidge of silence go by. Then, “I was thinking of going to see
The Day of the Jackal
. It's got really good reviews, and it's rated PG.”

Mom looked interested, and she was about to say something when Dad chimed in. “Where will you get the money?”

“Well, you know, I was kind of thinking it wouldn't be too much to ask. I'd like to ask Laura Holmes to go with me.”

Dad wouldn't even look at me. “You know how that stands, Paul.”

“Andy”—Mom spoke up like I'd been hoping she would if it came to this—“don't you think the boy's earned a little R&R? He finished the school year with decent grades, and he's been very responsible—”

“Irene, I don't need you going soft on me. We set the rules after that prank”—he looked at me here and scowled—“and I don't see any reason to change them now.”

Fury made it real hard to keep my voice even. “So when will they change? What do I have to do to be treated like a human being again instead of a dog?”

Whoa. Where did that come from?

“Young man, don't you raise your voice to me. And you know full well why things are the way they are right now. It wasn't my choice to get you into so much trouble. You did that all on your own.”

“But that was weeks ago! And I've done everything you wanted.”

Dad picked up a chicken bone and stared at it. “And you'll go on doing so. I'll let you know when it's time for you to have some running room. For now, you're still in the doghouse, since that's how you want to think of it.”

I stood and pushed my chair back hard, threw my napkin down on the table, and muttered, “May I be excused.” Not a question.

Dad said, “You may not.”

I ignored him and stomped out of the room with him calling my name behind me. I could hear Mom's voice, though not the words, and I left it to her to calm him down.
Where the fuck is Chris when I need him? Young man, Dad called me? Man? Like hell. Not in
his
eyes.

 

Sunday morning, after Mom left for church, Dad acted like there was nothing wrong between us. Maybe he couldn't really tell, or didn't care, that my opinion of him was particularly shitty; maybe he didn't take enough notice of me to know. I was glad to leave him behind, to enjoy his day off, when I rode to the store.

The weather was better than yesterday, at least a little sun. I'd had lunch at home since we don't open until one o'clock on Sundays, and I took a break around three-thirty after everyone else had been outside. I hadn't been out there more than a couple of minutes when I saw Marty strolling toward me. No Kevin in tow; Marty must have come by out of boredom.

He sat down without a greeting and lit a cigarette, then lit another and handed it to me. We sat there a minute in relatively companionable silence, and then he said, “Heard about the fracas here yesterday.”

“Oh?”
God, but this cig tastes great.
Fracas. I was almost hoping it would be bad enough to shut Dad down. Or make him sell out to that chain after all.

“Mrs. Denneghy lives next door to us. My mom saw the dog's leg, all swaddled in bandages, and asked her about it.” I just nodded. “Gonna call it quits with JJ's little therapy sessions?”

I chuckled. Therapy sessions; I liked that. “For now. Then it'll be by appointment only.”

“Mrs. Denneghy was pretty upset. Wonder if your dad'll get sued.”

“I don't give a fuck.” I blew smoke into the air over Marty's head.

Marty sat up a little. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Nothing but trouble, and no paradise in sight. He still won't give me any of the money I've been earning, and I want to take a date to see a movie.”

“Hoping to show off your newly acquired education?” He grinned salaciously.

What I really wanted to do was dispel the image of JJ's kiss, but I didn't want Marty to know that. Not only did I not want him to think I couldn't get that sight out of my mind, but on some weird level I also didn't want Marty to possess that information about JJ. I was keeping his secret, in a way, not that it was much of a secret. I shrugged.

Marty leaned back a little, his cigarette hand resting on the tabletop. “What if I lend you some money?”

My eyes jerked toward his. “Would you do that?”

He knocked some ash from his cig. “I'm not a charitable organization. May be a tiny bit of interest involved.”

“I always knew you'd be a loan shark when you grew up. Starting early?”

“Early?”

“I said, when you grew up.”

“Better be nice to me, kid. Do you want some moola or not?”

“So if I borrow, say, twenty-five bucks and can't pay you back until September, how much would that turn into?”

“You'd owe me thirty.”

“Usury!”

“Want it or not?”

Oh, I wanted it. I wanted more than that, but at Marty's rates I couldn't afford more. “I guess so. But only if I get until the end of October. I don't really know how long this thing with Dad will go on.”

He shrugged and we had a deal. I don't know where he got his money, but he always seemed to have some. He pulled a ten and three fives from his wallet and flipped them onto the table.

“Thanks.”

Marty finished his cig, ground it under his foot, and we both got up. I decided to walk him around the front to make sure he left without getting into any trouble, or getting me into any trouble. Before we rounded the corner to the front, I could hear the excited yaps of somebody's small dog, almost certainly there for an unscheduled therapy session. I positioned myself between Marty and whoever would be out there. Like JJ.

I was right. The “by appointment only” hadn't started yet, and Dad wasn't there to turn people away in the meantime; I couldn't see JJ doing that. And here some lady with an over-excited dachshund was trying to talk to JJ while the dog went round and round in circles, sometimes around the lady, sometimes just in place. JJ was listening intently to the woman, though I couldn't imagine why; I knew what he was going to do, almost no matter what she said. Marty came to a halt.

“What?” I asked him. He jerked his chin toward the scene. “Yeah? So? He does this all the time. C'mon.”

He ignored me and stood there watching. I wasn't about to leave him to his own devious devices, so even though I was probably gonna be late back from my break, I stayed where I was. And anyway, Dad wasn't there to check up on me. We stood there and watched JJ go through his usual motions, my homeless buddy Jack watching the show from the opposite front corner, until JJ had got the dog under control. Then JJ headed out into the lot, dog and lady walking sedately beside him.

“See you,” Marty threw at me as he started to walk away.

“Marty!” He turned. “Listen, don't you do anything. Leave them alone.”

He made his face go all sad and disappointed. “Paul, my boy, what do you take me for? I wouldn't do anything that hurts your dad's business. Otherwise you'll never be able to pay me back!” He cackled and headed toward his car, and I watched him until he'd driven all the way out of the lot.

As I turned to go back into the store, my gaze fell on Jack, grinning at me. He was missing quite a few teeth, though his long stringy hair was still pretty dark so it probably wasn't that he was old. What with the dirt and the crappy clothes, it was hard to tell his age. He grinned, mouth hanging open, nodding at me. Maybe telling Marty to behave had given me a little confidence or something, and I decided to tell Jack to get lost. But when I got close to him, he spoke first.

“Takes all their burdens. Calms those dogs right down. A little Jesus, that's what he is. Just lifts all their problems right off of them.” His stringy hair bobbed as he nodded wildly at me, a huge grin on his face. “Not like Bible Jesus, though. People can turn all their decisions over to that one. And they say, ‘Thank you, Jesus!'” He pointed out in JJ's general direction and then right at me. “But here? Little Jesus puts the burdens smack-dab onto the people!” As he raised his filthy hands into the air he shouted, “Hallelujah, praise the Lord!” And then he cackled, kind of like Marty, but really insane.

Yeah, Jack, you praise anybody you want. I've had my fill of Jesus, both Church Jesus and Dog Jesus
. Instead of sending the bum packing like I'd intended, I turned and opened the door back into the air conditioning and the smells of the store.
“Little Jesus.” And Jack can't even know what “JJ” stands for.

I spent the rest of that afternoon working out how I was gonna convince my mom to let me borrow her car without Dad knowing about it. In the end the only thing I worked out for sure was that he'd have to be nowhere around when I asked her.

My chance came that same night after dinner when Dad went into his den and closed the door. I offered to help Mom clean up, and she seemed a little surprised but not suspicious. Just before she attached the dishwasher to the faucet I made my move.

“Mom, I really appreciate how you stood up for me last night. I mean, I know what Dad's point is, but it seems like he's carrying it awfully far.”

Mom was quiet for a few seconds before she replied. “Well, that was a pretty dreadful thing you did.”

“I know. And I'm real sorry.”

“Say ‘really,' Paul. Use an adverb there.”

“Really sorry. And I wouldn't do it again. But the point's been made. I'm not asking for a lot, here, just a single night out.”

“I know, dear, but you heard your father.”

“Well, I do happen to have just about enough money to see a movie with someone. A girl, I mean. There's this really sweet girl, very pretty, that had agreed—”

“Who, Paul. People shouldn't be referred to as ‘that.'”

I took a breath. “Who had agreed to go out with me last fall, but I had to cancel.” I decided against reminding Mom of all the details; they involved Chris, and they involved an unpleasant scene between me and Mom. I just wanted to make it clear I was trying to right a wrong, sort of. “But I'd need a car.”

I waited. Finally Mom said, “That's a problem, Paul.”

“Could I borrow yours?”

She waited until the attachment had the faucet solidly in its grip, and until she'd loaded soap into the dishwasher, before she answered. “I think you know the answer to that.”

No good would come of pressing at this point. My fallback plan was to ask Marty if I could borrow his, and if I made Mom mad or suspicious it would be impossible for me to get out of the house at all. I mumbled, “Thanks anyway,” and headed upstairs.

Monday, my day off, with Dad away at the store and Mom busy sewing doggie backpacks, I shut myself in Dad's den and phoned Marty in the morning, before he'd be likely to have left on one of his mysterious outings. He answered, as luck would have it.

“Landon? Why aren't you busy stocking cat food or counting pretty rocks for aquariums or something?”

“Day off. Listen, I'm in a bit of a bind on this date thing. It's what I borrowed the money for.”